Strongly.

Go on, blast you! Ben Dollard growled. Get it out in bits.

M’appari, Simon, Father Cowley said.

Down stage he strode some paces, grave, tall in affliction, his long arms outheld. Hoarsely the apple of his throat hoarsed softly. Softly he sang to a dusty seascape there: A Last Farewell. A headland, a ship, a sail upon the billows. Farewell. A lovely girl, her veil awave upon the wind upon the headland, wind around her.

Cowley sang:

M’appari tutt’amor:

Il mio sguardo l’incontr...

She waved, unhearing Cowley, her veil, to one departing, dear one, to wind, love, speeding sail, return.